


Bloodlines

by ladyxgreywolf



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Drugs, F/M, Gen, Non-Jisbon, Rape, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-03 12:10:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4100482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyxgreywolf/pseuds/ladyxgreywolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane and Lisbon are chasing a criminal and Jane ends up in a much bigger mess, together with a female could-have-been con artist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during Season 5 - or an equivalent to Season 5. Meaning everything pre-Season 5 has happened, at least ;)

”That yellow one looks really good on you.”

     “You think?”

     Sarah turned around and tried to see how the sweater looked from behind through the mirror.

     “Of course”, Lydia answered. “Becca, doesn’t it look great?”

     “It does”, Rebecca agreed with one of her usual soft smiles. “Yellow is definitely a good color, and it will cheer you up.”

     “What, are you suddenly psychic?” Sarah teased as she placed the sweater back on its hanger.

     “No, just had a good feeling”, Rebecca answered and, as usual, turned her gaze slightly and studied the shop. Her friends had become used to her doing that from time to time, no matter if they were in someone’s private house or in a public place like this. Suddenly she turned around and started to flip through the clothes on one of the nearby racks.

     “I’m going to try this on”, she said and held up a shirt that both Lydia and Sarah thought of as hideous; neon-green with pink stripes on the arms. Sarah eventually shrugged.

     “Well, I’m done in here, so…”

     “No, no, I’ll take this stall”, Rebecca interrupted and nodded at one of the stalls with its door closed.

     “But that’s occupied”, Lydia protested. Rebecca did not seem to hear and placed her hand on the wood.

     “Wait!”

     The new voice came from a man, stout and dark but his eyes were currently glimmering with fear.

     “My sister’s in there”, he continued. “Please, just give me a moment and I’ll make sure that she gets ready…”

     “I think that she will need more than a moment”, Rebecca said, still with her hand on the door. “The woman in this stall has not moved during the whole half-hour that we have been standing here.”

     The man shook his head.

     “No, no, she’s just taking her time. She’ll be done in a moment, just…”

     “Freeze!”

     The man stopped in his tracks and threw his hands up in the air while the three young women all tried to pier over his shoulder. A short woman with her dark hair neatly put up in a tuft was pointing a gun at the man, her expression determined and focused. Slightly behind her stood a taller man, slightly tanned with clear, blue eyes and a bundle of blonde curls on his head. Lydia exchanged a glance with Sarah, who seemed to have noticed the same thing; this man had the same expression on his face that Rebecca had had only moments before, right before saying that she would try out that hideous shirt.

     “Turn around so that I can see your face”, the woman ordered and the stout man slowly spun around on the spot.

     “Please, put that down”, he begged. “I… please, I do not…”

     “It’s alright, Lisbon”, the blonde man said. “He won’t do anything.”

     The woman hesitated slightly before lowering her weapon.

     “Where is Victoria de Sousa?” she asked.

     “Who?” the man asked in return. “I don’t know…”

     “In the stall behind him”, Rebecca interrupted.

     “No, that’s my sister”, the man said and shook his head in protest.

     “The moment the officer spoke the name Victoria de Sousa you glanced in the direction of the stall”, Rebecca clarified, ignoring the comment. “Your right leg also moved forward slightly as if you wished to run away.”

     Everyone turned to stare at her, including the stout man.

     “Are you psychic?” he whispered.

     “No, she sees the details”, the blonde man answered. “She is able to read a person’s body language and actions in order to solve a problem.”

     He smiled slightly, white teeth glittering in the light of the lamps.

     “Anyway, I believe that she’s right because I detected the same things she did”, he continued. “Also you are sweating considerably and I doubt that is because of the lights in here.”

     “Open the door of the stall”, Lisbon, the female officer, ordered. The man’s breath hitched slightly, but he did not move. Instead it was Lydia, who happened to now stand the closest to the stall, who reached out towards the door.

     The moment her hand touched the wood the man suddenly dashed forward, dodging both of the officers and rushing out of the store. The officers turned and ran after, and after them ran Rebecca. She was not sure why she was running after them but something told her that she had to.

     The man quickly seemed to vanish in the crowded streets and Lisbon groaned in annoyance.

     “Damn”, she muttered.

     “It’s alright; he was just one of the lower ranked men”, the blonde said. “We should get the body.”

     “If there is one”, Lisbon remarked and turned around, heading back into the shop.

     “Do you also have a feeling of knowing where to go?” the blonde man then asked and turned towards Rebecca, who had remained outside with him. She blinked in surprise before she nodded. He smiled again.

     “Come on.”

     Back in the shop, Teresa Lisbon, CBI-agent, walked back towards the stalls. Two of the women, those that had not spoken earlier, stood where she had left them, one of them still with her hand on the door of the suspected stall. She now quickly removed it and stepped back.

     “You might want to step away”, Lisbon remarked and put on her rubber gloves. “Things can get pretty bad.”

     The two women immediately followed the order and stepped back, as far away from the stall as possible but still not heading in the direction of the door. Curiosity obviously kept them back. Lisbon carefully pushed the door inwards, only to stop when it was only revealing the wall. Her eyes widened slightly and she stepped back.

     “Oh no”, she whispered and turned to look back out on the street. Patrick Jane, the consultant at the CBI, and the young woman had both disappeared.

     “Oh no”, she repeated and ran back outside. In her mind she saw the mark drawn on the first wall you saw when you opened the stall; the red smiley face drawn in fresh blood.

     By that time Patrick Jane and Rebecca had walked away from the busy main street and in between the houses. Here the sun could barely be seen and the shadows were long, but neither seemed to mind. They were both used to the shadows.

     “You lost someone?” Rebecca suddenly asked. Jane hesitated before continuing to walk in silence.

     “Were they killed?” Rebecca continued.

     “Yes”, Jane answered, glancing back at the younger woman. He should have known that she would be able to read him; she had the same manners that he himself had, and many other psychics too, for that matter.

     “You lost someone too, did you not?” he then asked. She nodded, but kept her eyes focused on the darkness in front of them. They were about to emerge into a slightly bigger alley where the sun’s rays had been able to find their way to the ground. Jane got there first and spied out in both directions. To the right the alley eventually led out onto the main street again, while to the left there was a dead end. Jane frowned; he had been absolutely sure that this was where they needed to go, but now there was nothing. In fact the feeling of being able to catch the accomplice in his hide-out had vanished completely and another feeling had started to creep up inside of him.

     “We should…”

     He turned and froze as he saw the empty, dark alleyway behind him. He had not heard anything, not had the feeling of anyone else being close. So where was the young woman?

     Suddenly someone reached up from behind him and placed a cloth over his mouth and nose. He barely had time to register the sweet smell of chloroform before his knees gave way and he fell to the ground, blacking out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think; this is one of the stories I've dug up after several years of not working on it and I'd like to know if it'd be worth continuing!


	2. The Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you all so much for your lovely comments on this; really love to read them :) Hope the continuation does not disappoint!_

Teresa Lisbon tapped her pen on the notepad in front of her. It was not exactly a coherent rhythm. In fact she had no idea how long she had been doing this – if it had been something consistent throughout the entire meeting or if it was something she had started with quite recently. None of her colleagues seemed to mind it, though. Or maybe they did, but did not want to tell her to stop. She was their boss, after all, and if she was stressed and a good way to freaking out about the recent events then they were serious. Very, very serious.

     “Let’s recap this again”, she said and forced herself to stop tapping her pen. “We cornered Niall Jones in the clothing store, but he escaped. Jane chased after him together with one of the girls we met there.”

     “I still don’t understand why he did that”, Wayne Rigsby muttered.

     “Well, maybe he somehow knew that it was related to Red John, even if we didn’t?” Grace Van Pelt suggested. “You know he’s got a sixth sense when it comes to that.”

     “In any case; Jane and this girl, named Rebecca, chased after Jones, I opened the door of the stall and saw Red John’s mark on the door”, Lisbon continued. “We don’t know in which direction they headed, but as neither of them returned or made any sort of contact with the rest of us we can only assume that something has happened to them.”

     “We’ve got people on scene trying to find traces of a kidnapping”, Kimball Cho said, “and shopkeepers and others frequenting the area are being interviewed, asked if they’ve seen a suspicious car in the area lately.”

     “What about the two girls who were in the store with Rebecca?” Van Pelt asked.

     “They’re coming in about twenty minutes”, Lisbon replied. “Hopefully they can provide us with more information.”

     She shot a glance out of the bullpen, half expecting agents from the Missing Persons Unit to stand right outside the glass, demanding that she hand over the case to them. At any other time she probably would have, but this was personal. This was about Jane and his fanatical hunt for Red John, and everything that concerned those two should be handled by her team. Regardless of if it was customary or not.

     “We’ll interview the girls together”, Lisbon said, turning back to her colleagues. “They’re not suspected of anything and, considering the situation, I think it might be a bad idea to separate them. Their friend has very likely been kidnapped by a serial killer.”

     _Just like our own friend_ , a voice inside her head added. She bit back the urge to start tapping her pen again. If Jane had not managed to cause a mental breakdown for her before, this might very well do the trick.

     “Keep tabs on any information that might be related to this”, she said and rose. “Cars that look odd, people that act odd, you know the drill.”

     “Yes, boss”, the three others replied and quickly returned to their separate desks. Lisbon did the same, retreating into her separate office and slumping down on the couch with a groan. Usually she would have gone straight to her desk, started up her own work, but right now all she wanted to do was to wake up from this nightmare. Jane was her best friend, even though she might not acknowledge it openly, and he was missing. Missing, possibly dying – you never knew if Red John was behind all of this. Although, considering the way him and Jane had gone about one another for years she guessed the serial killer wanted Jane alive, at least for a while. A wave of nausea swept over her at the mere thought of Red John using Jane as some sort of torture plaything. They needed to find him and the young woman, Rebecca, as fast as possible, before any of her imaginations came true.

     A knock on the door opposite her made her look up. Cho was right outside and a quick glance at her watch made her realize that the time for the meeting with Rebecca’s two friends had already come. _What a productive number of minutes_ , she sarcastically thought to herself as she rose and brushed off. She then marched past Cho and towards the elevator, noticing the trio waiting there; the two girls from the store and a guy of the same age. The girls introduced themselves as Sarah Fuller and Lydia Sawyer. The guy’s name was Marcus Cross and was Sarah’s fiancé; he had offered to drive the two girls to the office since they were both in shock.

     “If you don’t want me in there for the meeting I’ll just wait out here”, he said.

     “No, it’ll be fine”, Lisbon said. “This way.”

     She led the trio into the hearing room and turned on the recorder. Cho entered as well and seated himself next to her, while the three friends sat down on the opposite side of the table.

     “We just want to know everything you can tell us about Rebecca and what you remember of the events today”, Lisbon said.

     “Okay”, Lydia said. She was a black woman in her mid-twenties, with dark eyes, glasses and slightly curly, black hair in a messy bun on the back of her head. Her nails were short and Lisbon could tell this was due to her biting on them, most likely a nervous habit.

     “We’re happy to help”, Sarah filled in. Her skin was the opposite of Lydia’s; pale white with hardly any birthmarks or freckles visible. Her brown hair was straight but thick and framed her face, where her mouth seemed to be the most prominent feature. For some reason Lisbon thought this was someone who smiled a lot, someone who was known for that smile, but at the moment this was something Sarah was unable to master. Not even a fake one appeared when she spoke.

     “Rebecca’s our friend”, she said. “We study together, at the College of Natural Sciences and Mathematics. She and Lydia were roommates in our first year.”

     “Which year are you in now?” Cho asked.

     “Third”, Lydia replied. “We had a tough exam yesterday, so we got today off and thought it’d be a good idea to go on a shopping trip.”

     “Did she do something unusual in the store that you reacted on?” Cho questioned.

     “Becca always does stuff that people might find... unusual”, Sarah said. “She’s that sort of person; she notices things that others don’t and does something to provoke a reaction from whatever she’s seen. So she noticed that there was something weird about the second stall and acted as if she wanted to go into it, but then this guy came up and said that his sister was in there. But Becca kept insisting on using the stall and...”

     “And then you guys appeared”, Lydia filled in.

     “What about her past?” Lisbon asked. “Did she ever talk about that?”

     Lydia and Sarah shared a brief glance.

     “Not that much”, Lydia then admitted. “I mean, she talked of stuff that happened when she was a kid every now and then, but she wasn’t the kind of person who told people her entire history.”

     “What about her family?” Cho asked.

     “Her mum and dad live in Napa”, Sarah replied, “and there’s a sister featuring in some of her stories, but she’s never told us her name and she seems reluctant to talk about her at all. So we haven’t pushed her to do so.”

     “She actually seemed kind of distant from her family”, Lydia added. “She hardly ever went home to visit them, not even during the holidays. If she did it was only for two or three days, and then she hardly spoke of any events that happened while she visited them.”

     “We still have to notify them of what’s happened to their daughter”, Lisbon said. She looked down at her papers where she had all the details they had previously been able to gather about Rebecca written down. First name: Rebecca Hannah. Last name; Barrow. Age; 26. Now she added Napa as place of origin and Sacramento as her current home. It was not much to go on. Honestly, this girl had fewer details published about her than Jane – and Jane was the most secretive person Lisbon had ever met.

     “When was her birthday?” she asked and looked at the two friends.

     “Twenty-first of October”, Sarah replied. “When she was a kid she hosted Halloween-birthday-parties at home. It’s one of the few stories of her past she seem to enjoy talking about, and also the one where her sister is featured. I think it’s an older sister, because Becca always talks about how she – her sister, that is – used to be in charge of handing out drinks and cookies and candy to Becca’s friends.”

     “She’s not hosting such parties anymore?” Lisbon asked, frowning slightly. It was not uncommon for young adults to host parties of that kind while at university; Halloween parties were something that everyone wanted to attend.

     “No”, Lydia replied. “She actually hates celebrating her birthday, tries to make us ignore it. She’s allowed us to take her out to dinner and celebrate, once, but that’s it. No parties, no Facebook notifications, nothing.”

     Lisbon frowned slightly and quickly scribbled down a note to herself on her paper; _possible family trouble in connection to birthday_.

     “Is Barrow her real last name?” Cho suddenly asked. The three friends frowned.

     “Why wouldn’t it be?” Lydia asked.

     “Many who have family problems tend to change their last names”, Cho explained, “and it sounds like Rebecca had indeed distanced herself from her family.”

     “I don’t think...” Sarah said, but Marcus suddenly leaned forward, placing a hand on her arm.

     “I think she had another name before”, he said. The two girls looked at him.

     “What do you mean?” Sarah asked.

     “Remember when we were out on your birthday, two years ago?” her fiancé asked. “Rebecca was paying and the card she gave to the waiter did not have her name on it. At least not her last name.”

     “How could you possibly notice that?” Lydia asked.

     “I was the designated driver while you three had been drinking quite a bit”, Marcus reminded her. “And I didn’t tell you two later because I didn’t think it was important; Becca was a private sort of person and if she did not want people to know things it was not my place to tell you.”

     “What name was on the card?” Lisbon asked. Marcus closed his eyes, obviously trying to envision the card he had seen two years earlier.

     “Ne-something”, he said. “Not too long, between five and seven letters, maybe?”

     Lisbon felt as if a cold bucket of water had been dropped over her head. _No_ , she thought. _No, no, no, please let me be wrong about this_.

     “Nettle?” she guessed. Marcus nodded.

     “Yes, that’s it.”

     Lisbon quickly turned to look at Cho, whose professional, stony face now looked equally shocked as Lisbon felt.

     “What?” Sarah said, drawing their attention. “What’s with that name?”

     “Almost five years ago there was a homicide in Sonoma County, west of Napa”, Lisbon explained, once again feeling the urge to tap her pen on the table overwhelm her mind. “A woman was found murdered in her dorm room at Sonoma State University. The murder held Red John’s signature – the bloody face on the wall that you two saw today in the store as well.”

     The trio on the opposite side of the table exchanged worried glances before turning back to Lisbon, who drew a deep breath before continuing.

     “That woman’s name was Diana Nettle. And she had a little sister named Rebecca.”


	3. The Cell

He woke up when the truck he had been placed in drove over a speed-bump, causing him to groan. A rag had been placed in his mouth to keep him from speaking and ropes had been tied around his wrists and ankles. His arms were placed on his back, further limiting his movements. His head was aching, both due to the earlier drugging and from hitting his head against the truck’s wall when unconscious.

     He could feel that there was someone next to him and in order to find out who it was he carefully opened his eyes. The person had brown, slightly wavy hair and a beige coat, which confirmed his suspicions that it was the young woman who had accompanied him. She was still unconscious. As he slowly turned his head to gaze around the area he found that they were alone. There were no windows; the only light came from a small gap between the doors at the back of the truck.

     The truck hit another speed-bump, or stone, or whatever could cause the car to jump around like this. Patrick Jane groaned as pain shot through him; he obviously had received some bruises during the unconscious part of the ride. His companion suddenly stirred and squinted, groaning as well as she felt the pain in her head. He moved to nudge her on the shoulder in order to signal that she was not alone. She turned and looked at him, revealing a fresh bruise on her left cheek. It came from before, he realized; she could not have acquired a bruise of such a shape in the truck.

     For a while they just sat there, looking at one another as the car continued its bumpy ride. Jane detected no fear in the woman, only worry about not knowing what was going to happen. He knew that she might see the same things in him, but perhaps also a hint of irritation; he hated to be dragged away like this.

     Suddenly the truck pulled into a stop. The doors of the driver’s cabin opened and then slammed shut. Shoes trampled the ground outside and with an ear-piercing sound the doors on the back opened. Two masked men climbed in, both of them armed with guns.

     “One wrong move and you’ll get shot”, one of them said as he knelt down next to Jane, pointing the weapon at his head. “Got it?”

     Jane nodded, knowing that there was nothing else he could do. The man nodded at the young woman.

     “That goes for your pretty girlfriend too.”

     Him and his companion then proceeded to cut the ropes binding their ankles, pulling them up on their feet (Jane had to hunch slightly in order to not hit the roof of the truck) and leading them outside, all the while keeping their guns at the ready. Outside the two prisoners were met with the sight of an underground car-park, making it impossible still for them to get any grip on where they were. They were led on through a corridor, dimly lit up and with nothing present on the concrete walls; no paintings, no doors leading to other rooms. Not until they reached the very end. There they found a steel door, through which they were forced in. Their guards swiftly cut the ropes binding their hands, then closed the door behind them. The sound of it being locked echoed in their empty cell. There were no windows, no mattresses, not even blankets to keep them warm. The only thing that was not part of the cell’s structure was a single light-bulb placed up in the high roof. Jane estimated that not even if the woman climbed up on his shoulders would they be able to reach it and make it into a weapon by smashing it.

     “You know these people?” the woman asked as she removed the rag that had been in her mouth.

     “Red John’s people”, Jane answered. “Guess I should have been more careful this time around.”

     “Red John as in the serial killer?”

     Jane only looked at her as a response and for the first time since they had woken up he saw a hint of fear in her.

     “He has been trying to lure me in for quite a while now”, Jane continued as he examined the cell. “Obviously he became tired of playing the mouse in this chase.”

     “You’ve been chasing him for a while, then?” the woman asked. Jane nodded again.

     “I doubt that he meant to bring you here as well”, he said after a while. “That was a coincidence; the bad luck of you following me.”

     “Red John does not kill men”, the woman pointed out. That statement caused him to look back at her. She shrugged slightly.

     “I’ve read whatever reports that have been published and those that carry his trademarks are all women. The men killed were killed due to bad timing. If Red John is after you, would it not be more logical to bring a woman along, to kill according to his usual ways while your death is staged to look like an accident?”

     “Perhaps, but I doubt that is how he will do it”, Jane answered. “He is after something else.”

* * *

Life in the cell became as dull and grey as the steel in the walls. They had no way of telling what time of the day it was or how long they had been kept captive. What told them that it had been a while was when they both felt how hungry and thirsty they were, but they received no food or water. Not until they both felt like it might be better to die did the guards show up, pulled them out of the cell one at a time and gave them a few glasses of water each to drink, but no food. When they slept they slept together, sharing each other’s body heat in order to keep warm.

     Not long after their third round of water did the door open again. Their usual pair of guards stepped inside, along with an unfamiliar guard and a man who was not in what they saw as the guard uniform. This man was wearing clothes that shrouded his appearance and a mask covering his face. Jane sat up straighter against the wall, his heart thumping in his chest and anger flailing.

     “Patrick Jane”, the new man said in a high-pitched voice. “After all this time of playing our little game. Have you enjoyed it?”

     Jane did not answer; instead he rose and walked towards his captor, his nemesis, aiming to hit him straight in the face. The lack of food had made him weak, however, and he was easily shoved aside by the guards.

     “Oh, do not worry”, Red John continued. “I can promise you that this curse that I placed on you will soon be lifted. Otherwise I would not have brought you here.”

     He nodded at the guards who moved forward. Two of them picked the weakened woman, whom Jane had learned was named Rebecca, from the floor, while the third, without any trouble, kept Jane back.

     “Personally I am not into this kind of practice”, Red John said with a slight wave of his hand. “Though, in order to get what I want, my friends will do this for me.”

     Jane’s eyes widened slightly as Rebecca was pushed up against the wall by the guards. One of them held her in place while the other pulled down both hers and his pants, before pressing into her. She screamed in pain.

     “Stop”, Jane said, struggling against his guard. “Stop this.”

     “Patrick Jane, you know that I will not do that”, Red John answered. “And you know why.”

     Seeing it for real now, yes, then Patrick Jane did really know why Red John allowed his accomplishes to do this. He had suspected it to be part of how Red John got his accomplishes to follow him; to allow them to have their way with certain victims. Now it was Rebecca who was facing this treatment and he blamed himself for that; he had basically asked her to come with him and investigate.

     Too weak to do anything against his guard (perhaps he would not have been able to do anything even if he had not been malnourished) he could only watch as the rape continued until the guard in question was satisfied. Him and his friend then released Rebecca into a heap on the floor and Red John walked over to her. With one hand he lifted her tear-streaked face so that she looked up at him, while the other brought out a knife, smaller than his usual weapon, and cut a wound on her right arm. As the blood gushed out Red John dipped three of his fingers into it and drew his trademark smiley on the wall above her head.

     “I believe that I should also tell you, Patrick Jane, that she will not stop bleeding”, he said as he drew it. “In the water you have been served there was a chemical that would cause hemophilia. The wound she has is small enough to keep her alive for a couple of hours.”

     He turned and even though Jane did not see it he knew that his enemy was smiling behind the mask.

     “Sleep tight”, he then said and walked out through the door together with the guards. Jane immediately crawled over to Rebecca who, at first, shied away from him as she kept on crying at the terrifying experience of being raped. He was not sure if she had even heard that Red John had also convicted her to a slow death.

     “I’m just going to tie something around your arm”, he said and ripped off the arm of his shirt. “I promise that you’ll get through this. I’m not going to hurt you. Do you hear me, Rebecca?”

     She nodded slightly but still did not look at him as he tied the cloth around her arm. He knew that it would be soaked within no time at all, but at least it seemed to comfort her somewhat. Slowly he then helped her pull her pants back up, careful not to go too far with his hands in order to not cause further trauma. Once she was clothed again he pulled her away from the scene of her rape, to the other end of the cell, and wrapped his arms around her like he used to do when they were sleeping. She leaned into his embrace and cried.


	4. UPDATE INFORMATION

**_ Hey guys – again! _ **

**Just a quick message to you all; I’m going to be quite busy throughout the rest of August and September and will have to go on hiatus for at least that time period. Basically I’ve just started working and I’ve been given a lot more responsibility than what was initially planned because the two original teachers I was supposed to work with quit after last semester so we’re three newbies on our teaching team instead of one newbie (me). Aaaand I’ll also be moving in the midst of all of this new work (end of August). So there’s a lot going on and even though I have no doubt I’ll still be writing stuff during this time to keep myself sane I won’t be able to focus on one story and get chapters up for that at a good interval. I will actually try to do something like that after all of this has settled done – set a schedule for chapter publishing – but at the moment I just have to focus on personal stuff.**

**As for now I’ve posted everything I had that I hadn’t posted yet – hence why some stories were suddenly updated with several new chapters at once instead of just one. I’m not saying that nothing will be posted throughout this period – I will do my best to give myself free weekends so that I can relax and not freak out completely – but on the other hand I can’t promise chapters or short-stories either. You know what I mean? Hope you do. Anyway; keep an eye out for chapters in late September or October, at least, because things should have settled by that time. Hopefully.**

* * *

**_Love,_ **

**_Sandra_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be removed once it's no longer needed :)


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